Under a Loaded Gun
by LiamHardyHPL
Summary: A Gilnean's of redemption following a tremendous blunder.


"Winchester" she wheedled, "Wiiiiinchester. You know, sometimes I feel like you never listen to me." Mika pouted and put her hands on her hips, glaring up at the man beside her.

"After everything I've done for you, the weapons, the equipment, the armour, that job in the plagued lands and you still can't even pay attention to me for more than thirty seconds whenever a pretty bit of skirt walks down the street!" she continued, and when he didn't look at her she thumped the side of his leg for good measure.

He harrumphed and looked down at her, "Mika, do you see that woman? Does she lo-"

"Yes, I see her and I also see you staring at her like a dog on a bone" Mika cast a glance at the woman again, frowned and scrunched her nose. Beside her Winchester took a deep breath, scented the air with his nose, she watched him frown at the smell.

Mika pondered. Their view of the street was unimpeded by pedestrians as they were currently in one of the many old guard lookouts around the city, unused for years, dust gathered everywhere and cobwebs collected in the corners, the inhabitants long dead. This particular tower was on one of the small islands in Stormwind's canal district, from here you could see the canal side streets of the Trade, Old and Dwarven districts, built sometime in the past with the intention of becoming a second city stockade it instead went unused as caverns underneath had a tendency to flood, not that people would have cared about dead prisoners, drowned guards were a different matter.

"This armour, will it work?" Winchester said, far too nonchalantly for what he was planning.

"Pull the straps on your calves and wrists, try to stay calm." She paused. "You know, she may just have a limp"

"Yeah, an old wound, there's loads of people with them"

"Exactly, she may just be a beggar, that would explain the smell"

Winchester sighed. "No, Mika, she's an Undead"

He smiled wryly. Mika turned to him and opened her mouth to say something, probably to tell him to be careful, or to be good, or to wait and see. She didn't get the chance, he'd pulled the armour straps and leapt from the towers balcony, plunging toward the ground feet first. It was easily high enough to kill a man, roughly two hundred feet high and without something to cushion the fall, save the cobbled stone floor below.

It never got any better, changing. It always hurt, first, his heart exploded in his chest, it swelled hard and fast enough to crack his ribs. Next his eyes turned to cracked marble balls in their sockets and his vision faded to gray briefly, his face hurt, his limbs hurt, worst of all his mind was in agony, the switch wasn't unpleasant for some, for Winchester it was his waking nightmare. He felt the armour shift over his frame as his arms elongated, the gloveless fingers expanded as his hands turned to claws and his legs expanded, the armour sliding over the new furry flesh, the base of each custom armour plated boot split and his exposed feet slid out, the boot becoming angular ankle armour.

Mika watched from above as a man leapt from the ledge and a beast landed below, the grace defying the form. She let out a breath she didn't know she'd held, broke into a little excited applause and silently congratulated herself, she wasn't actually sure that the armour would work, she'd warned him it hadn't been field tested, truth told it hadn't been tested at all.

Mika turned, ran toward the nearest table, grabbed a large iron sword, span around, ran to the window and hefted it out, blade first. It fell in a lazy arc before coming to a halt embedded into a cobble, not between two of them but just sinking into one. Then she ran back inside, out of a door in the tower and started down the stairs, three or four at a time in a little hops and stumbles.

Winchester landed, he didn't feel the force of the drop, taking a second to get a lay of the land he picked out the woman ahead of him, shuffling along in her robe, with the eyes of a beast he could see her much clearer at this distance than before, her robe bulged in several places and she looked left and right rapidly, she was heading for the Keep.

Stormwind citizens had yelped and fell back as he landed, he didn't take his eyes off her, didn't look at them. Then a sword landed around three inches from his right foot and he nearly jumped right back up into the tower. Some people had issues transforming into a Worgen, some of them didn't, some had never gotten used to the power of their new bodies, he'd once seen a frightened Gilnean man transform and leap straight into a stone ceiling because a spider had landed on his shoulder. It sounded funny, it was a good anecdote, he'd never told people the end of the story, with him brushing Worgen brains out of his hair. And now he'd very nearly made a damn fool of himself because of that bloody Gnome.

The shock had cost him a second and in that time the woman had disappeared around a corner, shuffling toward the Keep. He was wasting time, he grabbed the sword, yanked it out of the ground and ran, leaping straight over a guard and shoving two passersby roughly aside. The Undead woman had disappeared into the winding back alleys of the Old District, a dilapidated ancient part of town, a place that had survived the previous wars, mostly, but had its scars, moss grew in every crack, down and outs roamed the streets and the place was in eternal shadow because of the close-knit buildings and smoke from the Dwarven District.

Mika rushed out of the bottom floor of the tower, past a collection of muttering and indignant looking citizen and a few confused guards trying to establish what had happened. She sped past them headed across a bridge to her left, over the canal. She assumed the Undead was heading to the Keep, so she headed around the Old District, skirting it and running along the canal side path, past a group of gnarled old men singing raucously and through a game of grimy children who were playing a game, one of them slapped her arm and joyously yelled "TAG!" before his expression changed to confusion when he noticed she was, in fact, not one of his friends. She turned to look back at the child and as she did she passed the second opening to the Old District. She felt herself collide into someone, something smashed with a wet crack as her head collided with the strangers waist line.

Winchester had had enough, he clearly wasn't going to find her in the Old District, he should have just told a guard about her and then sprinted off to ambush her by the Keep entryway, instead he had to be the big hero, try to impress Mika because she had decided to do take some sort of interest in him and he wanted to show her he wasn't a waste of her time. Clearing a final twisting alley he finally saw something that things were going his way, he could see the Forsaken witch! It had taken long enough, but he'd caught her. She was just about to leave the District and make a final turn on the last stretch to the Keep, but he'd caught her. He sprinted after her, he almost had her, she was only a few metres ahead of him. She stepped onto the main path and suddenly something short, green haired and very fast collided with her, sending her sprawling and the assailant bouncing back.

From where he stood Winchester heard the glass vial shatter and the wind was knocked from him, he felt his body shift, he dropped the sword. The panic and shock had hit him so hard he had dropped the Worgen form without meaning to_. No. No, no, no. Not here_. He came upon the scene at last, Mika sat up, grinning like a lunatic and exclaiming cheerfully, "I got her, Chester! I got her!" she held her arms up in the air and cheered. He looked at the Forsaken on the floor, she stirred sluggishly, whatever broken thing had been making her limp before had been further damaged. She began to giggle, then laugh aloud before finally breaking into shrieks and gales of idiotic, uncontrollable laughter.

The children in the street stopped their game and watched the crazy homeless looking lady, the man standing over her turned to them and roared gutturally, "Leave, now." They made no effort to move. They didn't even flinch, for a kid in the slums this was the most entertainment they'd had in weeks. The woman on the floor slipped back her hood and one of the children screamed, they collectively gasped. None of them ran, they were rooted to the ground in fear. One of the children sounded like they were repeatedly trying to say something but just kept stammering. One fainted. The woman on the ground had no skin on her face, or very little, it hung in rotten clumps, her hair was ratty and lank, a greasy lock slipped from behind her ear and just the small movement made it fall out of her head. With sly speed she reached into her robes and brought out two vials, one shattered and leaking a poisonous sickly green liquid on the ground, the other filled with deep orange liquid. She stopped laughing, Winchester didn't move, he knew what it was. It was blight, it was death for the whole city in a vial.

Mika's vision swam for a second, her heart raced and then relaxed, in fact it stopped beating for a few seconds. _Concussion,_ she told herself. _ Just a head battering from running into her, I may have even hit my head when I fell back. I'm fine._ She grimaced. Her stomach churned, she felt herself flush.

"If you take her to a priest now you may save the little one," the Forsaken gestured to Mika, "the gutter rats are doomed, a child couldn't withstand the healing required of this poison so I suggest you take the little one and leave, forget the others" she stood and began to walk slowly along the street, behind him he heard a child moan. He turned to look and then rebounding footsteps of the Forsaken started to disappear behind him. The group of children all lay on the floor, they convulsed and shuddered. Their eyes were bulging from their faces, their necks swollen. Feet slapping against the ground. The older men had rushed to help and were too on the ground, shaking and foaming at the mouth.

Mika was pale, she knew it had to be an airborne poison, some kind of plague, some new horror of the Forsaken. Hadn't they learned? Hadn't they come far enough? She slumped heavily against a wall, "Leave me, Chester"

Winchester made to pick her up.

"Leave me, " she said weakly, "You never listen to me, we're all dead. Get to the Keep, stop that Undead..." her eyes closed briefly before snapping back open. "Stop her! Stop her, Winchester! Get there first, tell a guard, have them close down the district, it's airborne, have them fetch some Druids from the harbour, they know what to do." Her skin was a deathly pale gray. He stared, said nothing, he didn't know what to do. He wanted to help, he wanted to rush for help, save the city, save the children, kill the Forsaken, protect the king. He did nothing, he was paralyzed. He didn't know how much the sight of blight would affect him. Hadn't ever expected to see it again. And yet here it was, and it was going to destroy another city if he did nothing. Mika convulsed, even on deaths door she was smarter than him.

She spoke again, her eyes were unfocused, she stared at something over his left shoulder.

"Winchester, you're not affected by the plague, I am, those children will be, and the old men, in time they'll rise. Warn the guards, have them make sure we're disposed of"

He choked back a sob, she sounded so indifferent, there was no emotion to her voice. So different to her usual vibrancy. She weakly batted his arm. Gestured toward the Keep and, convulsed hard and sprayed blood from her mouth, it landed on his face. She'd clearly gotten a much stronger dose than the others.

"Show me your face." She said. He didn't know who she was talking to. "YOUR FACE!" She screamed and shuddered. She sobbed once. "Your face, Winchester, you big dummy"

He knew what she meant. He knew and obliged. He felt his heart hammer once in his chest, he shifted to the Worgen form. This time it didn't hurt. What did hurt was the sudden strength with which he smelled the poison in the air and on his friend.

She tried to smile, got halfway, hitched a breath and died. Just like that, not last message. No farewell, just gone. He laid her gently down and turned toward the Keep preparing to do something he'd seen other Worgen do, a few Gilnean people too, but very rarely a _civilised_ one. He tried not to picture the Gilnean man who had smashed his own head in by accident, crouched down, and leapt with all his might. A normal man can jump several feet, an athlete maybe up to two metres in height, as a Worgen he made it onto the building next to him, from their he began to sprint unimpeded over the rooftops, making up for lost time, he made one final bound over the Keeps wall and landed in the courtyard, he assumed he'd made it there before the Forsaken because guards immediately began to run at him.

"What are you doing?!" One screamed in his face. "This is not the place for-" Winchester brushed him aside, strode up to the one in Captains armour.

"There is an Undead woman heading this way, she has a vial of blight and has spread an airborne poison into the Old District." The old man reacted quickly, turned and told a nearby man to mount up, block off the Old Quarter and not let anyone in or out, guard, noble, even the prince. Winchester nodded approval, looking over the man's shoulder at the Keep gates. The Forsaken woman had made no appearance yet but it was only a matter of time.

"Tell your men to shut the gates, we need to protect the king" Winchester said.

He stared at the Worgen, "Men, inside now! Into the keep; now! I want this courtyard clear in ten seconds!"

"What are you doing?!"

"If she gets here and the gate is closed what is she going to do?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Pour the vial into the canal, the fact she's coming here means she wants to send a message by killing the king. Trust me, we need to play it smart. So you stay here with me, I'll not risk my men becoming monsters. You and I ambush her. Have you a weapon?"

Winchester slowly shook his head. This old Captain was trig alright, quick to the draw and not one for arguments. A guard rushed by within snatching distance and Winchester reached out quickly, grabbing the man's rife. It was Dwarven, long and sturdy. A quick closed fisted pat on the top told him it was loaded, the guard looked like he was about to protest but a look at the Captain and Winchester's face told him not to argue, he scurried off. The courtyard was clear. Only the two of them stood there, the fountain spray forming small rainbows in the air. No birds called, the sound of all the soldiers rushing around had scattered them.

Winchester pointed silently at the gate controls and then leapt up onto the Keep walls, hiding behind a parapet with an open view of the courtyard. The sound of strained breath and ragged shambling told him she was coming, she was close. From his viewpoint he could see the Captain, Winchester watched him, impressed, as he took off his helm, his shoulder armour and dumped them into the fountain, out of view. Then he his pike as a leaning post and took on the look of a bored, out of practice old guard. Someone who wouldn't be much of a threat, it was quite frankly amazing to him.

And here she came, shambling into the courtyard, casting quick looks left and right, he saw her sneer in contempt at the 'inept' guard, he saw her reach for something in her robes. Then he saw her collapse in a heap. He almost didn't hear it over the thumping in his head, the roar of blood and the crashing of lightning in his brain. But he felt the kick as the gun in his hand roared, firing it's single shot, finding her right knee. Later, he would not recall aiming and firing. Later he would recall almost none of the time after Mika died. Not for months would he become himself again. The Captain advanced on her form, used his pike to pull her flailing arm from her robe. It came out holding the orange vial, he smartly whacked it with the end of the pike, sending it skittering along the floor away from her and himself, it clattered to a rest, intact, against the far wall. Winchester dropped his gun and leapt down into the courtyard.

The Forsaken wretch was trying to pull herself toward the vial, desperately reaching for it, she made no sound. Winchester tried to drop into his human form. He couldn't, he still couldn't hear anything over the blood rage in his head. He saw the Captain say something he couldn't pick up. The Captain deftly stood between Winchester and the Forsaken, he put his hand out to halt Chester's intent. He was roughly flung out of the way, smashed into the low wall of the fountain and then slumped to the ground. Other guard were racing from their hiding holes in the Keep. Keen to enact their Captain's latest order, whatever it had been. They advanced on the two non-humans, flanking them both.

By the time Winchester had reached the Forsaken woman her fingers had brushed the glass of the vial, she was almost up it. Not fast enough, though. He grabbed her by the neck, knights were screaming, guns were levelled at him, swords drawn. The world was a cacophony of noise to all but him. He heard only the steady thumping of a raging heart. His eyes felt like sandpaper as they moved in his head. The Captain was screaming at his soldiers to retreat. Something must have gotten through, because it gave Winchester pause. S_urely he was doing the right thing, getting revenge, appeasing Mika's soul, saving the Kingdom. What he was doing was right, wasn't it? Surely they couldn't think of him as in the wrong, they'd understand when he explained... right? _The little scrap of conscience was drowned out with a mental and physical roar. The Worgen mind gave a final truculent, inarticulate howl and then he felt the Forsaken woman's head explode in his hand as he crushed it. Gore ran out between his fingers. He turned, the soldiers he turned toward fell back with a start, he swung his arm as he span and threw the Forsaken as hard he could. She hit the courtyard wall hard enough to rip her left arm off, gore spattered the wall around her impact and she fell to the ground limply.

He turned back to the crowd, he felt the rage leaving, something like shame was creeping in, replacing the hot rage with craven, childish sheepishness. He had enough time to see the Captain lever the staff end of the pike downwards toward his head, something exploded behind his eyes in a white flash. His vision suddenly sparked off as his hearing came back, everything sounded distorted and he realised that was because he was passing out. He hit the ground hard, still in his Worgen form. Heard a soldier let out a long ragged breath of relief, then he was gone.

"You've caused some real pains lately, Chester" a voice said to him from behind darkness. Panic seized him, iron bands around his chest, a stone hand gripping his heart, ice water in his brain, real panic barely known to most. He began to thrash in place, arms held fast he could barely move, he couldn't see, he'd been blinded.

"Pack it in, you idiot, hold still or Russ here will make you stay still" said the first voice.

"You can do that, can't you, doggy? You can sit and you can stay, yes?" said a second, Gilnean from the sound of it.

Something was pulled roughly from his head and his vision cleared, Worgen eyes adjusting to the darkness instantly.

"See, who's a good boy?" said the man on the right, his nasally voice sounded familiar to Winchester but he couldn't place it. "Perhaps we should give him a treat, like a nice bath"

"Later, Russ, later, if you're good or he's bad, come on." The first man took Russ by the arm and lead him to the door, Russ seemed reluctant to leave, his eyes shone brightly even in the darkness of this place, wherever it was. The first took the time to extinguish the torches hanging in brackets before giving Winchester a final smile. Then they were gone, through an open archway on the other side of the room, leaving him chained up alone in the darkness. Time passed, then footsteps came from the hall outside, someone stepped into the room. He couldn't see the stranger, could smell him, he smelled clean, not someone who often worked in a dungeon, not a guard or jailor.

"Listen to me very careful, Winchester Grifton, you've caused a lot of problems recently, and I'm going to give you the chance to fix them"

"And who might you be?" Winchester's voice sounded hoarse, even for a Worgen. "How long have I been down here? How many days?"

"As of right now, you've been down here for four hours. After that business in the courtyard you're lucky I didn't have you killed outright, do you know how hard it is to catch a rampant Worgen? We had poachers combing Elwynn for days after your escape, looks like the old saying is true, though. The guilty always returns to the scene of the crime"

Winchester looked up sharply.

"Say that part again, about how long it's been"


End file.
